


What’s in a Name?

by crxpt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crxpt/pseuds/crxpt
Summary: Hermione and Snape are engaged, and Hermione offers him to take her last name.  Snape muses on this, and his feelings about her and himself.





	What’s in a Name?

“Take my name,” her voice came to him as an answer to an unasked question.  She sought no permission, and yet pressured nothing.  It was a request. “When we marry, take my name.”

 

Snape struggled to keep his breath even under the weight of the cotton linen and her words. He turned his head to look at her.  Wearing nothing, Hermione was lazily draped on her side, arms stretched towards him. Her fingertips grazed his shoulders, caressing his cold skin with warmth and life.  The cool silver band on her left hand felt stark against her softness. He couldn’t help but muse to how he must look like a corpse, flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, shroud in a white sheet.  

 

She was so..alive.  Her chestnut colored eyes stood out against her warm brown skin.  She glowed, metaphorically and literally. When her magic was at its most vibrant, typically when she was excited or inspired, a shimmering pulse seemed to radiate from her.  Snape could feel it brush against him, a tingling electric surge. His eyes fluttered shut as the energy enveloped him. He began to lose himself in her magic.

 

“Severus?” Hermione asked tentatively.  He opened his eyes and looked at her. Magic retracting ever slightly, her expression had changed to one of nervousness.  She chewed the inside of her cheek as she tended to do when she doubted herself. She suddenly drew back her arms and flipped onto her back.  “It was a stupid thing to say. Really, I’m sorry. I was being an idiot. Forget I said anything,” she babbled quickly as she anxiously twisted the ring on her finger.  Her brow furrowed, and for a moment he thought she may begin to cry. She didn’t, and instead shut her eyes. Her large mass of hair flared out around her, forming a brunette halo on the pillow.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he thought to himself.   _You’ve done it now. You’ve ruined it.  Driving away the one good thing you’ve ever had.  Damn. She’ll give the ring back, and you’ll be done for.  Too good to be true, that’s for damn sure._

 

Panic threatened to overtake him.  In all his years of disguising his true intentions, motivations, and loyalties, one of the few things that risked disturbing his composure was _her._ After facing countless threats, putting his life on the line, and suffering torture for the sake of the wizard of world, nothing had prepared him for the utter terror he felt when he proposed to Hermione Granger several months ago, risking rejection.

 

His heart raced.  Why him? He was the death that contrasted her life.  He wasn’t worthy of her, let alone her name. Who was she to offer this?  If he didn’t know her to be the brightest witch he had ever met, he would assume she was mentally impaired...and blind.  He was ugly and cruel, and not in the tragically misunderstood, unconventionally beautiful way. Snape had a long standing habit of not realizing how his words impacted others.  More than once he found himself naturally reacting to something with harsh words and scathing criticism. Though, to his credit, he did find himself being more conscious, if only for her sake.  He was aged beyond his years, heavy bags and creases framing his eyes. His long, thick, black hair was coated in a permanent oil, not aided by the receding hairline and newfound streaks of grey.  Snape’s body was sickly thin, bones clearly visible under scarred flesh. The sheets hung over his naked frame in the most unflattering angels.

 

But Hermione, she was healthy.  Her plump figure curved and filled out under the blankets that seemed to mold to her.  He felt it was almost sacrilegious to look at her now.

 

To hell with it.  To hell with what she deserved, he wanted her, to be a part of her, and he would be a fool to deny it.

 

“Okay.” Snape croaked in a hoarse whisper.  He only hoped she didn’t regret her offer. He feared in the time he left open, she had changed her mind.  It seemed every day was filled with the perpetual fear of her changing her mind.

 

Hermione turned her head to meet his eyes.  A gentle smile broke out across her lips.

 

“You mean it?  It’s only if you want it.  I just thought that,” she hesitated and sighed a breathy chuckle,”maybe you’d want a last name not connected to your past.  A fresh start, right?” The two searched each other’s features for some truth. She had long stopped blushing and diverting her gaze from his intense stare. Hermione held her ground, the stubborn witch “And to be frank, I want to keep my last name.  It’s all I have left of my parents,” she trailed off, pausing before continuing. Her smile returned, “Severus Granger has a nice ring to it, I think.”

 

_Always straight to the point, this girl._

 

His name.  It had defined him more deeply than he cared to recognize, now more than ever. For months after the war, every issue of _The Daily Prophet_  had something to say about him, with his name being streaked over front page news. The name of Snape brought unfavorable connotations.  Even with his name cleared thanks to Potter, he could not erase the reputation it held to the majority of the public, including himself.  It had labeled him; half blood, death eater, traitor, martyr, victim and villain.  He supposed it would be unfair to curse her with his name. 

 

Hermione’s name held no past anymore, besides her being a recognized hero along with her friends.  The name Granger was free of corruptions, holding only possibilities and potential.  Their potential.  It was unchained among the wizarding and muggle worlds alike.

 

He couldn’t help but reach his hand over and stroke her cheek tenderly with his spindly fingers.  She offered him a second chance, rehabilitation, and liberation. Hermione knew not what she gifted him. 

 

“Granger, you are more than I am worthy.  And I hesitate to admit, it would elate me to take your name,” Snape finally managed to say.

 

She paused before she gave a toothy grin.

 

“Wow Severus, _elated?_ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more than dully amused!”

 

He growled in his throat before pulling the cheeky young woman over for a passionate kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my boyfriend, who read this over for me and commented on how I share similarities with Snape in our perpetual self loathing and feeling like our partners deserve better. Welp! I love you gaywad!


End file.
